


first thing that caught my eye

by plinys



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 04:37:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14742132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/pseuds/plinys
Summary: “Four makes it an orgy,” Sara points out.“Yes, like neither of us as ever been in an orgy before.”





	first thing that caught my eye

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whiteknightswan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiteknightswan/gifts).



> Some anon on this message board I was linked to today was like "Don't trust any fic Plinys writes because she's written Sara with /men/" like Sara ain't a whole ass bisexual woman and I'm not a known multi shipper. 
> 
> So despite having no beta and the worlds worst writers block, I wrote a thing. 
> 
> This is dedicated to you anon.

Technically this isn't a rebound. 

Because technically it's been over a month since the break up, one which Sara herself had initiated, one that she had tried to take back barely a week later with little success it was just… Well…

She's single.

Something which Sara is used to. She's been single more often than not. Plenty of room between the three steady relationships she's had, only one of them lasting more than a month.

She's good at being single.

It keeps to her image, the rogue time captain seducing beautiful women and semi-decent men throughout all of time and leaving every time before the sunrises.

Except sometimes  _ all of time  _ wasn't good enough.

Sometimes the feeling of loneliness crept in just enough, too close for comfort, enough to make her want something a bit more steady.

Not that Sara would ever admit  _ that  _ outloud.

Instead, when John had caught her eye in the Waverider’s kitchen that morning with a questioning glance, Sara had just replied that she needed a ‘good fuck’. A part of her had been hoping that he would have offered right then and there.

Though she wasn't entirely disappointed when John suggested a bar night instead.

Drinks, a good wingman, and an open bar full of prospects. 

Prospects that they were currently judging from their positions as the bar. 

Sara takes a sip of her drink - something that John ordered for her with a little but if a laugh - she doesn't know exactly what is in it, but it's sweet tasting and when she asked for  _ another one of those blue bitches  _ they'd made her a second one.

“What about him,” Sara says pointing across the bar. 

John follows her gaze to the man leaning up against one of the pinball machines. They both stare for a moment. Long enough to contemplate a potential conquest, before John shakes his head and says, “Two machines over.” 

Sara follows his line of sight, wrinkling her nose a little, “Not my type. Blonde next to him though.”

“Probably a couple.”

“What's wrong with a threesome?”

John grins back at her. “What about me, love?”

“Four makes it an orgy,” Sara points out.

“Yes, like neither of us as ever been in an orgy before," John replies sarcastically. 

Which was valid, but not exactly what Sara had in mind for the evening. 

Sara scans the bar again, “That ginger fuck in the corner?”

“You know I prefer blondes.”

That she did. That was the good thing about John, their  _ types  _ tended to match up. Though right now the very last thing Sara wanted was someone her type. She was already letting her eyes linger too long on the handful of leggy blondes she had seen around the bar. Not quite. Not exactly what she was looking for.

Though Sara knew better than to find  _ that  _ here. 

“What about her,” John says, pointing out the woman that Sara had been spending too long looking at. 

It’s easier to focus on guys at a moment like this.

One point for her bisexuality. 

Sara shakes her head, finding a guy instead, one with glasses that she knows falls just along the type of guy that  _ John  _ is avoiding looking for in the crowd, “What about him?”

“Touche,” John replies, tipping his glass at her before downing it. 

Sara does the same. 

“You know, he's your type,” Sara says, pointing right at John.

John stares at her pointed finger with slight confusion. “I'm my own type? Exactly how drunk are you, love?”

Sara ignores his second question. Moving her hand from pointing at him to holding onto the lapel of his trench coat, holding him in place. The fabric seems softer than usual under her fingers, which may be a sign that she  _ is  _ a little more tipsy than she had thought she was.

“Are you saying you wouldn't fuck yourself,” Sara says, a faux scandalized tone slipping into her voice.

“Well, I hadn't really thought about it.”

“Cause  _ I’d  _ fuck myself,” Sara continues. 

John snorts. But there's still a smirk on his lips. He's still watching her every movement, and Sara knows instantly that there's only one way this night is going to end.

“And how exactly would you manage that, love?”

“We’re time travelers, and there's other earths, and fuck -  _ clones  _ are always an option.”

It's the way she says  _ that  _ word, the one thing that she had been trying not to think about today, that suddenly gives them both pause.

She can barely hear the music over the too loud beating of her own hear.

A deafening thunder.

One that only John’s voice manages to cut through - “How about I fuck you instead?”

“Took you long enough.”

Sara smirks at him. Like that hadn’t been what they’d both been planning all along. 

Like they both didn’t know that there was only ever one way this night was going to end.

She supposes it was just that neither of them had wanted to admit it. 

She sets her empty glass down, the small noise seeming to somehow echo around the room mixing with the cacophony of people in the bar and the noises from the pinball machines, somehow even still this noise stands out above the rest.

And when she rises from her barstool, John follows her not a second later.

It would be easy to get back to the ship. Back to her bed that feels far too empty more often than not. But there’s something about this, about the music pounding around them, the taste of liquor on her lips, the feeling of John’s eyes on her even when she’s not looking that makes the idea of having sex in a hotel bathroom far more appealing than it should be. 

The door barely shuts behind them before she’s kissing him. Hot and rough, the heat of two bodies pressing against each other, friends with benefits, but so much more than that, all at the same time.

John knows just how to kiss her. As if this was the hundredth time, not one so few that she could still count them on her fingers.

They don’t break from the kiss even as they begin tug layers of clothing away Sara’s hands impatiently working at John’s belt, while his own hand slides up underneath her thin cotton shirt, underneath her bra, so that he can pinch her nipple between two of his fingers.

Sara gasps against his mouth, “Fuck!”

“I’m trying, love,” John replies, his lips so close that she can feel the words against her cheek.

“Then why are my pants still on?”

He doesn’t need much more prompting than that. A second later her pants are on the floor, removed in such an easy movement that Sara almost has to wonder how many times John has done this. Then again, she might have to ask herself the same question, which she wasn’t even entirely certain the answer to. 

That was the thing about sex with John.

It didn’t mean anything. 

It didn’t have to.

They didn’t have to talk about it in the morning, or try to put labels on this. They were just two people, in the bathroom of a crowded bar, that could take each other apart quickly, without worrying about having to put themselves together again. 

This feels almost natural.

Almost as if she was built just for this.

For the rough way John fucks. Not soft and caring. Her pleasure is her own, and his is his own. She kisses him only when she becomes tired of hearing nothing more than the sounds of their bodies moving against each other, mixed with the echo of music through the bathroom door. 

It’s easy to lose focus of herself here.

To forget all her worries, all her needs to be  _ captain _ , all of her longings for someone that does not want her back, and instead just focus on feelings. On the pleasure that builds inside of her as the pressure of John thrusting instead of her increases. 

She barely even notices the words falling from her own lips, broken moans, mixed with “harder” and “faster” and something like his name. 

Sometimes almost like another name. 

Her peak comes sooner than she would have liked it to have. Something she blames on how long it has been since the last time that she’s done something like this. It is the sort of thing that hits her so suddenly that one moment she is tere kissing John, focusing on the distraction that he’s provided her, and the next she’s lost to it.

The feeling overwhelming, as she lets out a noise that most certainly isn’t his name, against his lips, a feeling like sparks spreading throughout her body.

He follows her shortly after. His hips jerking against hers in a familiar uneven rhythm that she knows better than she would normally admit.

They both linger there for a moment when finished. The aftershocks settling in. The distraction finished, as the harsh reality of the world awaits them once more. Sara tries to cling to the momentary buzz that he has given her, the ringing that’s still there in her ears, even as they both pull apart and attempt to right their clothing.

As Sara buttons up her pants once more, she glances over at John. “Not bad.”  

John snorts. “You know, love, most girls say thank you.”

Sara just grins back at him. “You’re welcome.”  

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
